


Pyrrhic

by Alphabees



Series: Words Less Spoken By [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: Also not Thad friendly, Angst, He literally didn't do a thing wrong I just hate his name, I mean he did something wrong in the fic but you know, I'm sorry Thad, M/M, Not Blaine or Klaine Friendly, Pre-Relationship, Prompt Fill, Really professional tagging system
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:41:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24459898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alphabees/pseuds/Alphabees
Summary: Pyrrhic - Won at too great a cost.(Sequel to Basorexia - Can work as a standalone, apparently.)
Relationships: Kurt Hummel/Sebastian Smythe
Series: Words Less Spoken By [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1587718
Comments: 31
Kudos: 95





	Pyrrhic

Sebastian starts to notice more after that run-in with Kurt.

Most of it isn’t about Kurt himself - he continues to make just as much noise and takes up the same amount of space, and Sebastian puts up no more objection to that than usual. Kurt’s started backing away first though, which means Sebastian’s started winning their little sparring matches. That should feel good, right? 

(It doesn’t, because now when Kurt gives up he huffs with this stupid little pout that he refuses to admit is a pout, and he always, always looks at Sebastian’s mouth before he storms off and Sebastian feels like he’s missing something.)

It doesn’t matter, because that’s not what he’s been thinking about. Not all the time. 

Instead of thinking about that, he’s been paying more attention to the conversations in the hallways.

And the Warbler’s rehearsal space.

And the cafeteria. 

And the common room.

Especially that last one - because he isn’t getting a fucking choice in the matter. 

It’s not a physically awful space, at least; the sofas are comfortable, and the fireplace is actually a nice touch that his last school didn’t have. It’s usually quiet enough, especially on a Friday afternoon like this. School is over, and most people are either packing up their shit to head home for the weekend, or they’re already long gone. Sebastian, who enjoys the cushy full-board life, often spends these limbo hours getting his homework out of the way by the light of the fire, because the crackling helps him concentrate and the kind of fun he has at the weekends doesn’t start until the sun’s long gone. 

That being said, he can’t concentrate at all today, because of all that inconvenient noticing he’s been doing. 

All they have to do is say the name ‘Kurt,’ and his ears prick up like a middle-management closet case upon seeing his first glory hole.

It’s not because Sebastian wants to hear it, either - really, he doesn’t. He’s somehow trained himself to pick up on it whenever it happens because it’s the same people every time, saying it like it’s a joke.

At first, it was nothing too disturbing - comments here or there once the Kurt had already left rehearsal, snickers in the hallways, chuckles during lunch whenever he’d pass by… But the frequency built, kept building until Sebastian damn near started a tally just to count how many times they’d say his name like that. Like it’s something ridiculous. 

“I’m just saying,” Thad says, with a smile so douchey Sebastian knows it’s there without turning around to look, “if I see one more set of jazz hands during rehearsal, I’ll set off the damn fire alarm just to get out of there.”

Then there’s the usual ripple of laughter from his little crew of wannabes. Thankfully, Wes and David are too busy being seniors and useful, productive members of the council to take part - not that they’d do so anyway, simply because they’re not assholes. 

Sebastian knows that because he’s been an asshole for a while now, and that comes with a natural affinity for identifying your own kind. 

Thad, however, fits the bill. So do the gaggle of losers he walks the halls with - Ethan, Riley, and Ellis, who rarely have anything of value to say at the best of times. Blaine joins them on occasion, but he only ever uncomfortably laughs when they talk about Kurt like this. Sebastian still can’t understand how he stomachs it. He and Kurt are meant to be friends, or supposedly more if you give Dalton’s rumour-mill the time of day as of late.

“Yeah, his dancing sucks,” Riley supplies, which proves Sebastian’s no-value point deliciously. He has to suppress an audible laugh from his table because he’s watched Riley trip over his own feet too many times to count, and he’s long since realised that Kurt does that stupid shit with his hands to help himself keep time. It works for him, and if it means he isn’t stomping around like an idiot (like fucking Riley) then Sebastian can handle the eyesore. 

Now that he thinks about it, Sebastian can make a few connections like that. Today, it’s the new choreography that most of the group struggled to pick up, save for Sebastian and a few of their stronger dancers - Kurt included. He’s never the first to catch on, but he’s far more patient than Thad, who spends the whole time stumbling and swearing under his breath. 

Last week, when they were poking fun at his voice behind his back, it was after they’d been running scales and Thad’s voice cracked not once, but twice when he tried to stretch unreasonably far beyond his usual range. Kurt’s me-me-me’s rang clearer for longer than anybody else’s, bordering on haunting.

...In the nightmarish sense, of course. 

And the weekend before that when Kurt left the dorms in a completely bizarre turtleneck half-sweater, and jeans tight enough to choke lesser men (seriously, it must have cut off his circulation by the time Sebastian managed to stop staring) Thad had plenty to say about his top half looking like a used napkin. Thad himself was wearing perhaps the vilest, most ill-fitting jersey-esque thing in a putrid shade of green that, quite frankly, belonged in a used napkin. 

So, they’re envious. 

Sebastian can almost sympathise - it must be painful to be so average, so endlessly boring that comparing themselves to Kurt Hummel is their idea of a good time. It’s a useless endeavour for a multitude of reasons, Sebastian thinks, but mostly because Kurt Hummel can’t actually be compared to any other human being he’s ever met - and he’s had the misfortune of meeting far too many. 

These dipshits are decidedly included in the excess. 

Sebastian contemplates interrupting whatever it is they’re laughing about now, but what good would that do? Given his track record, they’d assume he wants to join in. 

He’s considered it once before, but no - it’s not going to be anywhere near as fun if Kurt’s not there to retaliate. 

Sebastian’s not given a shit about things being ‘fair’ since he was dumped in this school, and that’s probably where his initial animosity towards Kurt came from. It’s shifted since, turned from one thing to another, and while Sebastian doesn’t have a name for it anymore it remains a constant in his day-to-day life. 

Nowadays, it goes as follows: See Hummel. Say something astoundingly witty. Hummel rolls his eyes, pretends to be bored with it - sometimes he engages, sometimes he doesn’t. When he does, he fires back, gives as good as he gets, and wow, maybe Sebastian’s sort of a masochist, because he’s starting to realise that’s his favourite part.

(Except for that look he’s started giving him. But that doesn’t count, because it’s basically a white flag of surrender.)

So, yeah, they’d probably just call him a hypocrite, wouldn’t they? Because everybody knows that’s what Sebastian does - he insults Kurt, right to his face, and it’s strictly because he’s an asshole. If he calls Thad out for doing something so similar on the surface, well, that brings Sebastian’s reasoning into question. If he’s not picking those battles out of sheer spite, then he’s doing it for something else, and that’s a can of worms Sebastian Smythe refuses to acknowledge, let alone open. 

He can swallow the unease that letting Thad run his mouth brings, (he’s moved on to the clothes again now, they’re placing bets on how ridiculous Kurt’s going to look when he leaves this evening and Sebastian’s mind is split, half wondering if those jeans will make a reappearance, half wondering if he could gag Thad with his own blazer) when things take a turn he can’t pretend he doesn’t hear. 

“...Fucking flamer. You know, I’m actually surprised he doesn’t set the fire alarm off himself.”

Sebastian turns his head at that, stares right at them, but only Ellis notices at first. 

“Thad,” he whispers urgently, giving the dickhead in question an elbow to the ribs. He looks from Thad to Sebastian and back again in rapid succession, and Sebastian must look pissed because Ellis looks like he’s about to flee the country. 

“What?” The dense bastard replies, “it’s not like he’s trying to hide it. That’s why he’s here - he’s clearly never heard of subtlety. God knows what they do to fags like that in public schools--”

“Oh, he’s never heard of subtlety?” He interrupts; the irony of everything Thad’s saying, alongside the small matter of his blatant homophobia is too great to ignore.

Thad freezes. His eyes meet Sebastian’s, and for a moment he has the decency to look concerned. 

Unfortunately, it doesn’t last. Thad’s a little too dense for that.

“Chill, Sebastian. We’re not talking about you, are we?” He responds, with just enough condescension to start a simmer in Sebastian’s blood, imperceptible to anybody but himself.

“Sorry, Thad, it’s just that I can’t help eavesdropping, because you seem to be incapable of being an ass at a reasonable volume.” Sebastian matches Thad’s tone, annoying as it may be, because he’s not one to let himself be outdone. He sits up so he can turn and face them fully - now that he’s decided to put them in their place, he refuses to half-ass it. “Actually, now that I think about it, that makes sense. I’d assumed you were just tone-deaf from how you sounded during last week’s rehearsal, but it seems you’re actually hard of hearing.”

Thad laughs like it’s all just banter between friends, which is getting further and further from the truth with each second that passes. “Ouch… Somebody’s touchy today.” Once more, Sebastian is struck by the irony; he was having a fine day until their conversation began making him itch all over. “Why don’t you relax?”

“I don’t know, Thad, perhaps I’m waiting for you to shut your goddamn mouth before I take my afternoon nap?”

They exchange looks ranging from ‘get a load of this guy’ to ‘hey, he sounds kind of mad, maybe we should get out of here’ and it seems Thad is inclined to listen to the latter. 

“Well, would you look at the time,” Thad says, without so much as glancing at the clock. “Let’s go, guys. Soccer practice won’t wait for us.”

They start moving at various speeds that correlate nicely with the degrees of fear in each of their eyes, with Thad taking up the rear as his friends bustle out of the room. 

It’s just the two of them, staring at each other as Thad draws closer, taking a long way round. He’s getting closer to Sebastian - unnecessarily so - and the discomfort that twists in his gut is something he refuses to acknowledge. 

One of the few pros to contrast all the cons of moving into Dalton is how long it’s been since he’s been so close to a person who uses words like that. It’s a shame that all it takes to strip it of that redeeming quality is one idiot out of the faculty’s earshot. 

“Look,” he begins, with a voice that sounds genuinely remorseful to Sebastian’s surprise. “I can tell I’ve sort of… Touched a nerve.” 

Thad really must be an idiot, because he’s somehow come to the conclusion that he has permission to get close enough to set his hand on Sebastian’s shoulder. Not to mention that he has, in fact, touched a nerve - even as he speaks he’s touching several hundred in his shoulder, all of which are screaming at Sebastian to shove him away. 

There’s a short silence and it’s as if Thad expects him to correct him, to insist that he’s done nothing untoward after all. Sebastian, of course, refuses to fulfil that expectation. He looks blankly from the unwelcome hand to Thad’s smarmy face, waiting for him to get on with it before he follows his first instinct. 

“I think it’s obvious that I wasn’t talking about you, as I said,” Thad continues after far too long for Sebastian’s liking, through a chuckle so irksome Sebastian debates throwing him across the room. He doesn’t get the chance to really decide, because Thad moves back of his own volition, thank god. “You’re… You know,” he uses that same hand to gesture to Sebastian’s entire person.

As vague as it may be, Sebastian knows exactly what he’s getting at. The thing that shocks him, though, is how much it pisses him off. 

“I’m… What?” He raises an eyebrow, feigning ignorance. “Athletic? Tall?” Sebastian rises to his feet because he feels like he might be able to use that last point to make him squirm, “Devastatingly masculine? Is that it?” Sebastian’s full-on smirking now, all pretences lost, because Thad really is squirming. “So then, what is it that I have to do to get your attention, hm? Mix up my wardrobe? Talk about taking it up the ass more often? Incorporate more jazz hands into my life?” He can’t resist physically demonstrating that last one, just to see how it feels - and it feels _good_ to do it right in Thad’s horrified face. 

“I meant that you’re normal, Sebastian. Or at least you’ve done a good job of acting like it until now.” Thad scoffs, and now Sebastian thinks that if he were to throw him after all, he’d rather do it from a rooftop. 

“Well, I’m glad to hear I’ve finally met the entry requirements for your particular school of homophobia! Do I get a certificate? Or a medal, maybe?” Each word he speaks stokes the frustration beneath his skin, coils it tighter, and before he can think better he’s getting right up in Thad’s face.

“Back off, Smythe,” he growls, shoving Sebastian rashly by his chest. 

If all the idiocy he was spewing mere moments ago was a spark, well, having the gall to touch Sebastian again sets him alight. Rational thought be damned - he’s pissed, and he’s surging forward, pushing Thad further, harder than he means to, so much so that he hits the ground. 

He wouldn’t have given a shit about that kind of talk if he’d heard it the day he arrived at Dalton, or any day before that - but he does now, and he has no idea why. 

(Except he does, and it kind of has everything to do with Kurt, who’s never hidden the parts of himself that an idiot might use as an excuse to act like Thad does.)

Thad curses as he stumbles, and it’s loud. So is the thud of his elbow against the table, right beside the textbook Sebastian had been calmly working from just minutes earlier, and then there’s a yelp. Sebastian is stood there, useless for his rage, fists clenched at his sides as Thad clutches at his arm and wails.

Sebastian is seeing red. His nails are digging into his palms, and his mind is no longer at Dalton academy. It’s several months back, in a different school on another continent, stuck in a familiar moment that shakes him to his core. It’s different this time, he tells himself; he’s still standing, and there’s only two of them, and Sebastian isn’t hurt.

Seconds pass and he stays frozen like that despite the vicious heat behind his eyes, until Thad isn’t the only source of commotion anymore. 

Blaine reaches him first, and isn’t that just _perfect._

As he marches over Sebastian can just about hear him, yelling something about ‘crossing a line’ and ‘human decency,’ and the hypocrisy may as well smack him over the head. Of course it’s him, everybody’s knight in shining armour come to save the day. Sebastian hears him on both sides every day - telling Kurt nobody talks about him like that and comforting him over the snippets he hears anyway, and sitting idly by when he’s out of the room across the cafeteria from Sebastian, forcing himself to laugh along because he has to be the good guy _everywhere_. 

Sebastian’s never going to be able to knock that facade off of him, but once, just once, he wants to see mud smeared all over that pristine, glistening chainmail. 

He doesn’t get the chance, though.

Blaine reaches to pull him away from Thad, as if he was about to drop down onto him and escalate him further, but that doesn’t click for Sebastian in time. For a fraction of a second, when he gets an inch too close, it looks like he’s reaching for his throat and Sebastian _panics._

His arm juts out, and it’s awkward and unplanned, but it’s fast. His wrist slams against the bridge of Blaine’s nose. The pulse in his ears is pounding too loud for him to hear any sort of crunch, but the sickening splash of red that lingers on his palm has the same effect.

There’s a crowd. Sebastian isn’t sure when that happened, but it’s there, and the shrill voices of the more fragile freshmen only draw more attention. As Sebastian looks between them, and the pain contorts on Blaine’s face as he cups his hands around his nose, that lack of control wraps tight around his lungs, squeezes the air from them.

“What the hell is-- Blaine?” 

Nobody else gets any quieter, but Kurt’s voice still cuts above the rest.

He doesn’t add to the rows of students lining the walls, keeping their distance - he approaches without hesitating, but it’s different to Blaine’s. It’s urgent, but not aggressive, and as he reaches the little cluster of chaos Sebastian realises exactly how it must look.

That’s why all those whiny freshmen are looking at him like he’s just bitten somebody’s head off.

“He broke my fucking nose, Kurt,” Blaine whines, and he has Kurt’s full attention. When Sebastian notices the bitter feeling stirring in his gut at the sight of Kurt cupping his jaw, gently guiding his hands away, he all but smacks it out of himself. As annoying as Blaine is, he’s literally bleeding from his face.

“No, he hasn’t,” Kurt replies, almost _too_ calm. As Blaine begins tilting his head back, Blaine urges him to do the opposite. “Forward, not back. You don’t want that running down your throat.” Blaine whimpers, but does as he’s told, covering his injury again. The damage is done though; his shirt is red and sticky in places. Sebastian gags when the smell hits him. 

That gets Kurt looking his way, with a fire that makes Sebastian’s own from earlier seem dim in comparison.

“It’s… Not--”

“Not what it looks like?” Kurt scoffs, taking in the mess around them. “No, Sebastian. You don’t get to charm away all the cruel things you do - not when they leave somebody bleeding, or-- _That,”_ he snipes, cold and decisive as he gestures towards Thad, still fussing over his arm on the floor. 

One of the onlookers calls out for somebody to fetch the nurse, and Kurt begins leading Blaine out of the room as he asks them what it looks like he’s doing, just as snappy, but a little less composed.

Thad’s shut up. Blaine’s snivelling like a child, cursing up a storm under his breath. This is close to what Sebastian wanted - so why is he so desperate for the ground to swallow him whole?

 _“Kurt,”_ he says, tearing his eyes away from Thad. There’s something pleading in it, and he can tell Kurt’s heard it from the way he stops, and stares for a second too long for him to miss. 

“...Save it, Smythe,” he replies. It’s stony, as if he’s brushing off a stranger. 

Sebastian watches his shoulders as he walks away, and the way his arm cover’s Blaine’s. Somebody’s helping Thad up beside him, and Sebastian knows that ought to be holding his focus - he should be lording something over him, he thinks, because he gave up with _one push,_ for fuck’s sake. There was hardly a fight at all.

He won, right?

**Author's Note:**

> So, here's part 2!
> 
> First of all, I'd just like to apologise to Thad who did nothing but victimise me by having that name. 
> 
> Secondly, I'd like to say thank you to embo-gleek on Tumblr, who sent this prompt forth literally last year and didn't see anything of it until now. Granted, the world's gotten crazy since then, and I've literally finished my degree since that happened, but it's still long overdue!
> 
> Anyway, I love this little series, so as you may have noticed, it has his own title now! If you take a peek at my Tumblr (alphabees-writes) you'll see a post pretty soon relating to potential prompts for the next instalment! I love writing these, so if you liked reading it and would like to see more, send one in! It'll be a fun challenge C: (Edit: Here's that post! https://alphabees-writes.tumblr.com/post/619570843721285632/words-less-spoken-by )
> 
> Lastly, wherever you are, I hope you're staying home and safe if you can. If any of you are struggling through this my thoughts are with you, and if you need a place to talk, just to get it all out, my messages are open. 
> 
> Have a lovely day!


End file.
